


Duty and Tradition

by IndulgentDiscourse



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, assassination attempt, brotherhood era, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndulgentDiscourse/pseuds/IndulgentDiscourse
Summary: Someone attempted to take the life of young Crown Prince Noctis. Fortunately, Gladio is there to protect him. Unfortunately, Gladio isn’t bulletproof.





	Duty and Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! 
> 
> This is Mod B, and this is my first time writing for this fandom! Mod J is the one who wrote all those lovely slash fics, but that’s not really my thing, so don’t get your hopes up, I guess? 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! Please comment, let me know what you think! 
> 
> -Mod B

 

It was supposed to be a simple ceremony.

It was the anniversary of King Regis Lucis Caelum’s coronation, a day that was celebrated widely in Insomnia. It was tradition for the King to address his citizens on that day, a short speech, mostly designed to be sound bites about hope and the future and the importance of tradition.

So many things were based on tradition.

For example, tradition dictated that the King was not alone onstage during his address, but the Crown Prince as well. Along with the royalty, their closest advisors were to be onstage, but in the background, as a show of support for their rulers. Apparently, the royal shields were considered to be included under the category of “closest advisors”.

Not that Gladio minded too much. After all, it was his duty to protect Prince Noctis, even though it was just a boring ceremony. They weren’t even anywhere dangerous. The podium was just outside the gates of the Citadel, allowing for civilians and media alike to crowd around and listen.

Bored, Gladio tried not to shift his weight. He had been standing in position since the start of the address, and his shoulders ached from holding his arms behind his back. The collar of his formal Crownsguard uniform was stiff and itchy. He looked at Noct out of the corner of his eye. The younger prince was looking just as bored as Gladio, but at least he was allowed to move a little bit, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. As a result, a few carefully gelled hairs came loose, sticking out at a strange angle. Gladio bit down a smirk. Ignis had fought Noct tooth and nail to wrangle the prince into looking presentable, with Noct fighting him every step of way, albeit inadvertently. Noct’s friend from school, the scrawny blonde boy, was an avid texter, and the two boys chatted at every opportunity. Noct had been so focused on his phone that it was impossible for him to pay attention to any of Ignis’s requests, so the adviser had straight up taken away Noct’s phone, telling him he would get it back after the address.

Gladio wondered if Noct’s friend would be in attendance. What was his name, Peter- no, that wasn’t it- Preston? No, not that either... Gladio scanned the crowd for the teen as Regis carried on, saying something that made the assembled crowd cheer. All but one figure.

Gladio narrowed his eyes as he watched the man, about ten or twelve rows from the front of the crowd. Something about the man seemed... _off_ , to Gladio. Maybe the man genuinely didn’t like whatever it was that the King had said, or maybe it was something else. Gladio watched as the man’s face twisted in a scowling sneer, and then as he reached into his jacket for something.

That something was a gun.

Gladio reacted on instinct just as the gun came up, pointed straight at the stage. He lunged forward, covering Noctis’s body with his own, just as the sound of a gunshot rang out.

Chaos ensured.

The assembled crowd ran off, screaming. In their panic, a cameraman filming the address for a newsfeed livestream had dropped the camera on the ground. Clarus had moved into position in front of King Regis, his sword raised in a defensive position, already shouting orders to Crownsguard and Glaives alike. Regis had raised a shield around the podium, looking towards his son, checking to make sure his boy was alive.

Gladio registered none of it.

As soon as he saw the gun, he jumped, years of training kicking into overdrive in one moment. He had moved to guard Noctis, and he soon discovered that he made the right decision.

In the movies, getting shot looks a lot worse than it actually is. Movies make it seem so dramatic, with a great spurt of blood and instant death, the victim maybe staggering a few steps back.

In reality, the impact felt more like a hard shove, nothing extremely painful at first. Enough for Gladio to ignore it for a moment, to look up at Noct, who looked so extremely surprised that it was almost funny.

That’s when the pain hit.

Great, burning waves of agony arched out from his right shoulder, pain sharp enough to make the edges of Gladio’s vision dark and fuzzy. Pain hot enough that he could feel it pouring down over his chest and arms in warm waves. Dizzily, Gladio risked a glance at his shoulder. As it turns out, that was blood, running thick and hot along his skin. It was as if this realization flipped some switch in his brain, because instantly his knees crumpled and vision darkened, until he was slumped on the floor. Blearily, he heard someone shouting orders and a hand on Noctis’s shoulder, pulling the prince away.

Weakly, Gladio tried to reach out for his charge, but his arms didn’t want to obey. So Gladiolus lay on the floor of the stage, not seeing or hearing much of anything, only distracted by agony and the sensation of his own warm blood seeping into his undershirt.

Gladio faded into unconsciousness just as some members of Crownsguard heaved him up onto a stretcher, a doctor barking orders to prep for surgery.

* * *

 

 

Prompto sat alone in his living room, eagerly watching the Royal Address on a livestream. It was being covered on every news station in Lucis, as it was every year, but this year Prompto had a reason to really tune in: his best friend was the Crown Prince! The King’s speech was important and all, but Prompto was really just watching to see Noctis. The two had been texting all morning, until their conversation was abruptly cut off an hour or so before the address. Prompto guess that Noct turned his phone off to get ready for the address, so Prompto took it upon himself to send a bunch of nice messages for Noct to see when he turned his phone back on. So, Prompto watched the livestream, and every time the camera passed over Noctis, Prompto would send a text with some observation about the Prince’s appearance or the camera work or someone in the crowd. Prompto sighed as he considered the crowd of citizens. He sure would have liked to be there, listening in person, but it was kinda an exclusive event if you wanted to be really close. You had to either be in the government, or be related to someone who was, or be insanely rich. Maybe next year, Noct could get him in! Then he’d get to support his friend from up close, instead of a city length away.

Prompto looked up from his phone as King Regis said something about the hope for the future, punctuated with a gesture towards Noctis, who did his best not to look too embarrassed about it, reaching up to rub the back of his head. The crowd cheered and applauded.

Smirking, Prompto crafted his next text.

 **Photoboi** : _dont look so ruffled, i hear civilians can smell fe_

A gunshot sounded from the television. Prompto looked up just in time to see the camera fall, dropped to the ground but still recording. The camera recorded the sound of screams and people’s feet as they fled for just a moment, before a “STANDBY” screen came up on the screen.

Cold panic flooded Prompto, and he froze before deleting his last message, typing a new one.

 **Photoboi** : _what was that?_

 **Photoboi** : _is everything ok_?

 **Photoboi** : _i hope this is just a joke_

 **Photoboi** : _dude cmon answer me_

 **Photoboi** : _Noct?_

* * *

 

Ignis had had a very long day. He was up at the crack of dawn, readying himself for the address and the enormous task of getting the Prince ready for the address.

Right off the bat, traffic to the Citadel was insane, even though Ignis knew it would be. He just hadn’t taken into consideration just how annoyed he would be by the inconvenience. Maybe he should take up Noct’s offer and get a room within the Citadel. As the advisor for the Crown Prince, it was well within his right.

Then, it was near impossible to get Noctis ready. The Prince was of no help, his eyes glued to his phone as he texted away, even as Ignis readied everything. Ignis reached his breaking point when Noctis ignored the suit laid out and waiting for him in favor of texting. Ignis was glad that Noct had a friend, he really was, but there were pressing matters at hand. With a deft movement, Ignis reached down and snatched the phone out of Noct’s hands, pocketing it.

“Wha- hey, I was using that!” The Prince insisted, reaching for the device. Ignis just pointed at the suit.

“You can have it back after the address. Now get ready or I swear to the Astrals that your father won’t be able to find your body.”

Huffing and grumbling the whole way, Noct did as he was told, even allowing Ignis to rake product through his hair.

That had been that morning.

Now, Ignis sat in a small sitting room within the Citadel, watching the livestream of the King’s address, accompanied by Iris Amicitia. The young girl was a decent viewing companion, even if she did get up from her chair and wander around the room occasionally. Ignis tried not to think about his current job as “babysitting”, but it was hard not to. Ignis wasn’t an advisor to the King, so he wasn’t allowed onstage. He had been walking Noctis towards the small squadron of Crownsguard who would surround the stage while the King was speaking, when Gladio had grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

“Hey, Iggy, could you do me a favor?”

Gladio would be expected to appear alongside Noctis as his Shield, and while it wasn’t the first time he had done so to the public, it was the first time he was to do so for the King’s Coronation Address. In the past, when Noctis had been younger, he would have been under the protection of Clarus and Cor, but it was decided that when the Prince started high school, it was time for his Shield to formally join him. In the past, Ignis and Gladio and Iris would all watch the King’s address together, the two boys spending half of their time watching the address and the other half spent entertaining Iris.

Now it was only Ignis who would remain behind.

Ignis cleared his throat and sent Noctis off to his father before facing Gladio.

“What do you need?”

Gladio gestured over towards Iris, who was hugging her father tightly.

“Can you keep an eye on her? You know she’s no trouble, just for until the speech is over and then you can bring her right back.”

Ignis watched as Clarus patted his daughter on the head. Ignis knew just how much Gladio loved his little sister, and this change in routine must have been killing him.

“Not a problem, Gladio.”

The larger teen grinned and slapped him lightly on the arm, before trotting over to his father and sister.

So, technically Ignis wasn’t babysitting, per say, but it sure seemed like it after the fourth time that he had to remind Iris not to touch the glass cases filled with antiques surrounding the sitting room. Beside Ignis, smothered beneath a pillow, was Noct’s ever-buzzing phone. It seems that Noctis’s friend had taken it upon himself to have a one-sided conversation, sending enough text messages for two people.

Ignis felt a headache beginning to pound behind his temples as the crowd on the television cheered. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, hoping to relieve some of the tension.

And then he heard a gunshot.

By the time he had his glasses back on and had blinked away the lights and colors, the screen read “STANDBY”.

Noct’s phone stopped buzzing for a moment, before doubling in intensity.

Iris was frozen where she stood.

Ignis’s own phone rang out, vibrating furiously as texts and alerts from his higher ups came in.

That was all it took before he grabbed everything, Iris included, and ran for the Citadel entrance.   
  


* * *

 

Everything was a whirlwind for Noctis. One moment, he had been thinking about the homework he still had to do, sitting abandoned on his desk, and the next, Gladio was in front of him, arms and body wide as he covered Noct with his body. Noctis locked eyes with Gladio, watchign in horrified shock as his Shield -his _friend_ \- began to buckle, blood running down his chest from the hole in his shoulder.

Then Noct was being whisked away, a strong hand pulling him close to Clarus as the King’s Shield moved him and his father to safety. Noct watched helplessly as Gladio fell to the ground, and then he was being pushed into the center of a tight knot of Crownsguard and marched towards the Citadel doors.

It wasn’t until they had all reached the Throne Room that the guards dispersed, and Noctis immediately threw himself at his father.

“We have to go back,” he shouted, gripping Regis’s arms. “Dad, we have to go back for him, we just left him there, it’s not fair!”

Regis held his son by his shoulders.

“Noctis,” he said, sternly. “I know you’re worried about Gladiolus, but we- and especially you! The shooter was aiming for you!- cannot leave until we know everything is safe.”

Noct tried to tug free of his father’s grip.

“That’s why I have to help him! It’s my fault he got hurt, and we just left him-“

At this, Clarus swept up behind the prince, addressing the King.

“I just got word that a team of Crownsguard has retrieved Gladio, and they are preparing to operate on him as we speak.”

Noctis sagged with relief. Regis cautiously released him, unsure if he would dash out the door at the last moment. Fortunately, he stayed where he was, right as a Crownsguard escorted a harried-looking Ignis and Iris inside the Throne Room.

Ignis, already briefed by reports from other advisors, stood at the ready by Noctis. Ignis all but threw Noct’s still-buzzing phone at the Prince before pulling him aside. The two began to murmur to each other in hushed tones, while Iris threw herself at her father.

Clarus knelt down to her level, brushing her hair away from her eyes. Regis knew that everybody needed a moment to themselves, so he busied himself with listening to reports from the captain of the Kingsglaives.

Clarus focused on his daughter in front of him.

“Do you know what happened,” she asked, her voice wobbling.

Clarus took a deep breath.

“Someone tried to hurt Prince Noctis,” he explained as gently as he could. “But Gladio protected him, like he’s supposed to, and he got hurt in the process. He’s in surgery right now.”

Iris stared at him for a moment, before bursting into tears. Clarus pulled her into a tight hug. Iris might be fully aware of the responsibilities of the Amicitia line, but she was only ten. She was worried for her brother, and in that moment, Clarus allowed his guard to drop, and let himself feel fear for his son, his boy, his son who he had to leave behind on that stage, all to protect his oldest friend and his son. Clarus took a deep breath, pulling his daughter close as she sobbed into his shoulder.   
  


* * *

 

It was a while before the Crownsguard and Glaives reported back that all civilians and citizens had been evacuated from the Citadel grounds, and that the Citadel was on lockdown, and it was safe for His Majesty to leave the Throne Room now if he wished.

Regis looked down at where everybody had sprawled themselves out to sit on the stairs that lead up to the throne, where Regis himself sat.

Ignis was responding to emails and working on a speech for Noctis on the chance that the Prince would need to give one concerning the details of the day’s events. Noctis was laying on the stair next to Ignis, replying to all two hundred and four of Prompto’s texts and seventeen missed calls.

Clarus paced the length of the room, marching to the door and turning on his heel before marching back to where Iris sat at the base of the stairs, dozing.

Regis dismissed the messenger before gathering himself up.

“Well, let’s go and see how Gladio is doing, then.”

The group readied themselves to leave and made for the door, but before Noctis could make it through, Regis looped an arm around his son’s shoulders.

“We’ll catch up in a moment,” he called.

Noctis glared up at his father for holding him back, but didn’t say anything otherwise.

“I think we ought to have a little talk,” Regis said, studying his son.

“I need you to understand something, Noctis. It is not your fault that Gladio was hurt. He knew the risks of the job, and accepted them. You would do your friend a disservice to ignore his choices in the matter. The Amicitia line has always served us, but they understand the consequences. They do it because it is their duty, and it brings them great honor to serve their rulers. Gladio took that bullet not only out of duty, but also friendship, and today I saw you willing to risk your life, despite him doing his best to save it. Don’t dishonor your friend by wasting the chances he gives you, Noctis.”

Regis smiled kindly down at his son.

“He’s very lucky to have a friend like you.”

And with that, the two of them went to join the rest of their group.   
  


* * *

 

Gladio awoke in a room he didn’t recognize. Walls painted gray with black trim surrounded him, and the white sheets itched his legs. And the beeping sound that awoke him was incredibly annoying. Groaning, Gladio reached for the source of the beeping, but was stopped by a tugging sensation on his arm. When he focused on the source of the sensation, his eyes flew open at the IV line stuck in his arm. He reached to tug it out, but a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the voice cautioned. “You’d be feeling a hell of a lot worse without it.” Gladio squinted at the speaker, who came into focus as a woman in a long white coat at the foot of his bed.

“Mr. Amicitia,” she said, looking over a paper on a clipboard. “Do you know what happened?”

Gladio’s head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and he tried to raise his right arm to rub his eyes. Instantly, it burned and ached, and Gladio hissed. But the pain was all it took for him to recall the events of the day.

“Noct!” He exclaimed, trying to sit up. “Is he okay? Did he and the King make it out okay?”

The doctor smiled and opened the door to Gladio’s room. “Why don’t you ask them yourself?” With that, she slipped out the door, as Clarus, Iris, Ignis, Regis, and finally Noctis all shoved themselves inside the room.

“Gladdy!”

Iris flung herself onto Gladio, pulling her brother into a hug.

“Hey, kiddo, good to see you- ow, arm, watch the arm!”

Iris pulled away immediately, already apologizing immensely. Gladio reassured her that she didn’t hurt him, she just needed to be careful.

Ignis was next, with small pleasantries and well-wishes. It was all very formal and unmistakably Ignis, but at the end, he broke off into a smile.

“Next time you get shot, please try to not get blood on your uniform, it’s hellish to wash out.”

Gladio laughed, biting back a grimace as his shoulder was jostled.

He looked over to Noctis, his charge, his Prince, his friend.

“Don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you in training,” he teased, grinning at Noct. “And you don’t get to miss out on any training just ‘cuz I’m not there.”

Noct rolled his eyes, but grinned back. There was a lot more to say, but it could be said later, in front of less people. After all, Gladio had a reputation to maintain.

Regis leaned down and murmured something to Noct, and Noctis nodded, before gesturing for Iris and Iggy to follow him. They left the room after bidding Gladio goodbyes, and Iris with the promise to bring him all the books and ice cream he could want while he had to stay in the hospital!

After that, it was just Regis and Clarus alone in the room with Gladio. Regis studied Gladio for a moment, before bowing his head to him.

“You have my thanks,” he said, meeting Gladio’s eyes. “For protecting my son. And you have my gratitude for giving your life in service of the crown.”

Gladio didn’t know what to say.

“Your Majesty-“ he tried, but Regis cut him off, raising his hand.

“I understand.” The King smiled, and in that moment, he looked older than Gladio had ever seen him look before. “Thank you, Gladiolus.”

And with that, Regis left the room.

Clarus looked over his son for a moment, before pulling a chair up and plopping down at Gladio’s bedside.

“The doctors said,” he pulled his cape off, draping it over the bed at Gladio’s feet. “That the bullet hit you and broke apart into seven different pieces inside. They had to operate to get it all out. And the captains of the Glaives and Crownsguard are both saying that if you hadn’t moved when you did, do what you did, then that bullet would have hit Noctis in the gut, and he’d probably be dead. You saved his life.” 

Clarus fixed Gladio with a steely look in his eye, the look that Gladio only ever saw at the end of rough days or when he or Iris broke something.

Then the look ended and Clarus pulled his son forward, foreheads touching.

“I’m proud of you, Gladio. You’ve sacrificed, become a true Shield now.” Gladio couldn’t help his smile at those words.

“All I ever wanted, Dad.”

Clarus released his son and looked him up and down.

“When you get out of here and have healed up, I think we can look into getting you your tattoo. What do you think?”

Gladio could only smile.

There are many things in his life that were based on tradition. The King’s Coronation Address, the duty and sacrifice of the Amicitia line, the stuffy formal uniforms to name a few. But the one tradition that Gladio loved most of all was the tattoo. It was a tradition among the Amicitia that whenever they became Shields to their rulers that they receive a tattoo, an enormous bird of prey. Clarus had it, as did his father before him, as did his grandmother, and so on and so on. Shield had to earn the right to their tattoos, and by the Astrals did Gladio think he earned his.

His father, his King, and his friends would all tell him that he certainly did.


End file.
